Chapter 20 Be Careful
Right. Because of course there were rules about dinner attire. Rules about everything in this place.
Cedric made his way upstairs to his bedroomhis temporary bedroom, since apparently, he'd eventually be moved to falcone's room like some kind of live-in concubine. The thought should've bothered him more than it did.
His phone buzzed as he closed the door. Marcus.
"Need to meet. Have information about Falcone you need to see. Coffee shop on 5th tomorrow, 10am?"
Cedric stared at the message for a long moment. He should say yes. Should jump at the chance to gather more intel, to do the job he was supposedly being paid for.
Instead, he found himself thinking about falcone’s hands on him in the car. About the way he'd looked at Cedric in those mirrors at the tailor shop. About the casual possessiveness of "mine" and how much Cedric was starting to crave hearing it.
"Can't tomorrow. Working at the club. How about Wednesday?"
The response came immediately.
"Wednesday works. Be careful, Cedric."
Cedric tossed his phone onto the bed and headed for the shower, trying not to think about the fact that he was lying to both sides now.
Lying to Marcus about his availability.
Lying to falcone by omission about meeting Marcus at all.
Lying to himself about how much he was starting to enjoy his gilded cage.
The water was hot enough to burn, but Cedric stayed under it anyway, letting it wash away the evidence of the car ride while his mind spun in circles.
Three weeks. It had only been three weeks, and already he barely recognized himself.
The worst part?
He wasn't sure he wanted to go back to being the person he used to be.
That Cedric had been desperate and broken and invisible.
This Cedricfalcone's Cedric~~was wanted. Seen. Claimed.
Even if the price was his freedom.
Even if the man doing the claiming had orchestrated everything to put him here.
Cedric pressed his forehead against the cool tile and tried not to think about how good the chains felt as they tightened around him.
He failed.
Dinner was in the formal dining room, which Cedric hadn't even known existed until Mrs. Kozlov led him there at 6:58pm exactly. The room was as intimidating as the rest of the housemahogany table that seated twenty, crystal chandelier, oil paintings of stern-faced people who were probably falcone's ancestors.
Falcone was already seated at the head of the table, dressed in dark slacks and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked up when Cedric entered, his eyes tracking over the outfit Mrs. Kozlov had helped him pick out.
"Perfect," falcone said. "Sit."
There were twenty chairs, but only one was set with plates and silverware besides falcone's. The one directly to his right.
Close enough to touch.
Cedric sat, hyperaware of falcone's proximity, of the way his cologne mixed with the smell of whatever delicious thing was about to be served.
"Wine?" Falcone asked, already pouring from a bottle that probably cost more than a month's rent.
"Sure."
The meal was brought out by staff Cedric didn't recognizenot Mrs. Kozlov but younger women in identical black uniforms. The first course was some kind of seafood thing that looked too pretty to eat.
"Crudo," falcone said, noting Cedric's hesitation. "Raw fish with citrus and olive oil. Try it."
Cedric tried it. It was delicious, delicate and fresh and completely unlike anything he'd ever eaten before.
"Good?" Falcone asked.
"Yeah. Really good."
They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the soft clink of silverware and the distant noise of the city beyond the windows.
"You're quiet," falcone observed.
"I'm eating."
"You're thinking." Falcone set down his fork, his full attention now on Cedric. "About what?"
About how insane this all is. About how three weeks ago I was sucking dick in a bathroom stall for rent money and now I'm eating raw fish that costs more than I used to make in a night. About how I should be planning my escape and instead I'm sitting here wondering what you taste like when you've had wine.
"Nothing important," Cedric said.
"Liar."
Cedric took a sip of wine to buy time. "I was thinking about my mom. About how I should call her, tell her I'm okay."
It wasn't entirely a lie. He had been thinking about his mom, about how to explain where he was and what he was doing without actually explaining any of it.
"You should," falcone agreed. "Family is important."
"Is it?" Cedric met his eyes. "You don't seem to have much family around."
"My brother is... abroad." Something shuttered in falcone's expression. "And my parents are dead."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. They were... complicated." Falcone picked up his wine glass, swirling the dark liquid. "My father was a hard man. Traditional. He believed in the old ways, in blood loyalty above everything else."
"And your mom?"
"She loved him despite his flaws. Or maybe because of them. I never quite figured out which." Falcone took a drink. "She died when I was nineteen. Cancer. My father followed six months later. Heart attack, supposedly, though I've always suspected it was more that he didn't want to keep living without her."
There was something raw in his voice, something human and hurting that made Cedric's chest tighten.
"That must've been hard."
"It was necessary." Falcone's mask slipped back into place. "It made me who I am. Taught me that love is the most dangerous weakness a man can have."
"Is that what you believe? That love is weakness?"
"I believe love makes you vulnerable." Falcone’s eyes found his. "Makes you do things you wouldn't normally do. Makes you build empires just to be worthy of someone. Makes you destroy everything that threatens what's yours."
The words hung between them, loaded with meaning Cedric wasn't sure he wanted to unpack.
"That doesn't sound like weakness," he said quietly. "That sounds like obsession."
"Same thing, in the end." Falcone smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Both will get you killed if you're not careful."
The staff cleared their plates and brought out the next coursesome kind of pasta that was clearly homemade, delicate ribbons in a cream sauce with herbs Cedric couldn't identify.
"Tell me about Cornell," falcone said, changing the subject. "What made you want to be a veterinarian?"
Cedric twirled pasta around his fork, surprised by the question. "I... I don't know. I've always liked animals better than people, I guess. They're honest. They don't lie or manipulate or pretend to be something they're not."
"Unlike humans."
"Yeah. Unlike humans." Cedric took a bite, the flavors exploding on his tongue. "When I was a kid, we had this dog. Rusty. He was this mutt we found at a shelter, half-blind and missing a leg. Nobody wanted him. But my dadmy real dad, before the gamblinghe saw something in Rusty. Brought him home."
Cedric smiled at the memory. "Rusty lived for twelve years. Outlived my dad by six. He was the best thing about my childhood."
"What happened to him?"
"He died about a year after my dad. Old age. I was sixteen." Cedric's throat tightened. "I wanted to save him, you know? Wanted to know enough about veterinary medicine to keep him alive. But I was just a kid with Google and hope. It wasn't enough."
"Is that when you decided to go to Cornell?"
"That's when I decided I wanted to save things that couldn't save themselves." Cedric met falcone's eyes. "Stupid, right? Thinking I could save anything when I couldn't even save my own family."
"Not stupid." Falcone's voice was soft. "Ambitious. Noble, even."
"Yeah, well. Noble doesn't pay the bills." Cedric took another bite of pasta. "Noble doesn't keep your kid sister from getting bruises. Noble doesn't stop loan sharks from threatening to kill your mother."
"No," falcone agreed. "But I do."
The certainty in his voice was absolute. Unshakeable.
"Why?" Cedric asked, the question he'd been holding back finally breaking free. "Why do you care? Really. Why go through all this trouble for someone like me?"
Falcone was quiet for a long moment, studying Cedric with an intensity that made him squirm.
"Because I see you," he said finally. "All of you. The brilliant student and the sex worker. The dreamer and the survivor. The boy who wanted to save a dying dog and the man who'll do anything to protect his family." He leaned forward slightly. "Most people only see one version of you at a time. But I see all of them, and I want every single one."
Cedric's breath caught. "That's..."
"Obsessive?" Falcone smiled. "Yes. We've established that."
"I was going to say terrifying."
"That too." Falcone reached across the table, his hand covering Cedric's. "But you're still here."
"I don't have anywhere else to go."
"You could go back to Marcus." Falcone’s thumb stroked across Cedric's knuckles. "He'd take you in a heartbeat. Give you protection, a new identity, a fresh start."
"Would you let me?"
"No." No hesitation. "I'd burn down half the city before I let you walk away. But I wouldn't stop you from trying."
It was the most honest thing falcone had ever said to him. Terrifying in its sincerity.
"That's fucked up," Cedric whispered.
"I know." Falcone's grip tightened. "But I've never lied to you about what I am, Cedric. I'm not a good man. I'm not a hero. I'm the monster in the story, and you're the prize I claimed."
"And if I don't want to be a prize?"
"Then be a partner." Falcone's eyes burned into his. "Stand beside me instead of behind me. Learn my world. Help me build something bigger than either of us alone."
"You mean join your empire."
"I mean become part of it. Use that brilliant mind of yours for something more than survival. You wanted to save things, Cedric. Help me save this city from people worse than me."
It was a seductive offer. Dangerous and wrong and completely insane.
"I'll think about it," Cedric heard himself say.
Falcone smiled, and this time it did reach his eyes. "That's all I ask."
They finished dinner in comfortable silence, and when falcone walked Cedric to his bedroom door, he pressed a kiss to his forehead that was surprisingly gentle.
"Sleep well, beautiful boy," he murmured. "Tomorrow we start teaching you about my world."
Then he was gone, leaving Cedric alone with his thoughts and the growing, terrifying realization that he was in way over his head.
And sinking deeper every day.
His phone buzzed one more time before he fell asleep.
Marcus again.
Seriously. Be careful. I'm hearing things about Falcone. Things that don't add up. We need to talk ASAP.
Cedric stared at the message for a long time before responding.
I know. Wednesday. I promise.~
He deleted the messages immediately after sending, some instinct telling him to cover his tracks even though he wasn't sure why.
Then he lay in his ridiculously comfortable bed in his borrowed room in his gilded cage and tried not to think about how much he was starting to want to stay.